


Drops of Jupiter

by Inalovelyplace



Series: Playlist [2]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Cute things, Drops of Jupiter by Train, F/M, Fluff, Reunions, Singing, Songfic, Tom Is A Sweetheart, but also guilty af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5137115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inalovelyplace/pseuds/Inalovelyplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second installment with Tom and Kit, after five years apart the two start to rebuild their friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drops of Jupiter

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I'm starting to get really attached to these two so I hope you're enjoying reading them as much as I am writing them. I know I'm not the best writer but these stories really make me happy so I feel like I have to share them. My stories aren't beta-read, so there might be a few mistakes (esp. because I like to write in the wee hours of the morning). I hope you like it!
> 
> This specific section was inspired by my friend playing me Taylor Swift's version of Drops of Jupiter in the car the other day, and I highly reccommend you listen to it, even if you aren't much of a fan.

“Thank you very much” she hummed after the low clapping died down, sitting on a new stage in front of a mostly new crowd. This time, Tom’s presence was planned, she’d given him the address a few days before with a hopeful ‘see you soon’ and her trademarked simile.

 

“All right, now I know this song has been covered a thousand different times and a thousand different ways, but it’s new to our group and it’s a personal favorite” she explained, beginning a set of familiar chords on her guitar as she spoke, “and I’m singing this for a friend of mine that I think can relate right now”

 

Tom perked up at that, catching her eye as she seemingly smiled out at the crowd, but really only at him that time. As the well known melody began the crowd gave a small cheer that rolled up from the back like a wave.

 

 _“Well now he's back in the atmosphere_   
_With Drops of Jupiter in his hair, hey, hey”_

 

He grinned at Kit from his seat, realizing that it was the tune she had been absently humming the other day as they were out on the street. At the time it had been familiar, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to place it. Tom could tell why the lyrics had been on her mind.

  
_“He walks like summer and talks like rain_   
_Reminds me that there's time to change, hey, hey”_

 

It had been an odd two weeks since that fateful night she fell back into his life. They saw each other almost every day, and as of yet he hadn’t gathered the courage to mention his lingering feelings for her. Tom found himself in the position of a woeful teenager, pining after her when she wasn’t looking and feeling bad about it when she was.

  
 _“Since his return from the stay on the moon_  
 _He listens like spring and he talks like June, hey, hey”_  
  
He had an awkward meeting with her bandmates, there was a look in their eyes that seemed to Tom like they knew exactly what had happened between him and Kit, but they were being kind to him for her sake. Her manager (and roommate), Anna, on the other hand, was more than happy to meet him. Anna’s enthusiasm shocked him briefly, before Kit stretched up on her toes and whispered in his ear, ‘she’s a fan’.

 

 _“Tell me did you sail across the sun_   
_Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded_   
_That heaven is overrated “_   


He visited her apartment, and met the Great Dane that had claimed his side of what used to be their shared bed. The dog was the height of her elbow on all fours and could jump up and rest his paws easily on Tom’s shoulders.

 

“This is Seymour” she had giggled as the dog greeted Tom affectionately with many kisses. An immediate friendship was formed, and the dog often joined them on their daily adventures out in the city. It gave Tom a little thrill when he realized more often than not were they stopped by people wanting to pet the dog than they were by people hoping for his autograph, he loved anonymity. They had a silent agreement going, it seemed. Of course they talked about what had happened in their five year gap, stories of work and dating and friends and the like. But, since the initial night in the bar, there had been no further discussion as to why it had happened.

  
_“Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star_   
_One without a permanent scar_   
_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there”_   


Tom’s chest tightened briefly, her floating voice seemed perfectly suited for the song and he knew she hadn’t intended the performance to inspire guilt in him, and yet there it was again. He could tell in their time together she was trying to cure him of it, to wash it all away, but her goal for that was still unclear. Was this to her simply repairing a burned bridge, wiping red from her ledger to gain some closure and move on? Or did she want back that which they had before, as Tom did?

  
_“Well now he's back from that soul vacation_   
_Chasing his way through the constellation, hey, hey_   
_He checks out Mozart while he does tae-bo_   
_Reminds me that there's room to grow, hey, hey”_

 

He loved seeing the ways she had changed over the years, her taste in music had altered slightly, but not her taste for tea. And she still loved the same movies but no longer kept up with the tv shows she had previously involved herself in. She’d developed a hatred for spaghetti and a love for guacamole, something he’d never been able to get her to try because it’s texture “looked too freaky”. Tom smiled fondly at the memory of her pushing a tortilla chip full of the stuff away from her face and nearly into his shirt, he’d gotten her back by flicking a tomato from the nearby bowl of salsa her way, which had resulted in a nearly-catastrophic chip fight and a mutual decision to never make mexican food together again. Other than the strangely colored hair-- which Tom longed to play with absently like he used to during sleepy nights on the couch-- her beauty habits seemed the same, not that he had gone so far as to snoop in her bathroom, but she appeared the same to his eyes. Soft and beautiful as the day they first met  
  
 _“Well now he's back in the atmosphere_  
 _I'm afraid that he might think of me as plain ol' Jane_  
 _Told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly so he never did land”_  
  


He’d made a comment about her keeping the hat, and how it made him happy. That was, until, she got a sad look on her face and explained that the hat he had bought her was actually caught by the wind during an outdoor performance two years ago and carried out onto the bay. The one sitting atop her curls now had been bought for her by a fan, she had told him, apologizing profusely.

 

“it’s okay” he had promised, hugging her into his side and briefly pressing his lips to her forehead. That was another thing that made him happy, her copious hugs and casual handholding made their uneasy friendship all the simpler. Every kiss on the cheek and thoughtless embrace made it easy for Tom to pull himself back to the man that had fallen in love with her initially. He tried not to think to hard about the fact that she offered all these things to her other friends as well.

 

 _“Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet_   
_Did you finally get the chance to dance along in the light of day_   
_Head back to the Milky Way_   
_And tell me, did Venus blow your mind_   
_Was it everything you wanted to find_   
_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there”_   


She took him to bakeries that opened at five in the morning, to watch the sunrise between the buildings with a croissant and a cup of coffee. And to rooftop bars, to see the sunset with a fruity drink of the same color scheme that neither of them drank because it was rather disgusting but still had ordered because they agreed that it seemed right for the cliche. He got to see the world again through her eyes. He took her to his favorite bookstores, showed her novels and plays that he had discovered, played her his favorite songs over her apartment sound system as Seymour sat between them on the little couch. Tom could find the briefest of moments in each day that he could pretend five years hadn’t even passed.  
  


 _“Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken_   
_Your best friend always sticking up for you, even when I know you're wrong_   
_Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance five-hour phone conversation_   
_The best soy latte that you ever had. . .and me.”_   


There was one moment, only a few days prior, that Tom felt as though he had truly travelled back to their life before. It was in her kitchen, she was making breakfast in the early morning light after he had slept on the couch and by some terrible, half asleep reflex he walked up behind her swaying form and wrapped his arms around her middle. Kit stiffened for half a breath, barely enough to be noticed, before resuming her humming. She set down the whisk she was stirring the pancake batter with and turned in his arms to deliver a ‘good morning’, and if it weren’t for Anna emerging from her bedroom at exactly that moment Tom was rather sure he would have planted one on her right then. As it was, they immediately jumped apart, nearly spilling the pancake batter in the process.

  
_“Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet_   
_Did you finally get the chance to dance along in the light of day_   
_Head back toward the Milky Way_   
_Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star_   
_One without a permanent scar_   
_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself?”_   


Tom found himself pulled back to his table in the bar, where he could just catch the glimmer of a tear in her eye before she blinked it away, not letting it slip down her rosy cheek. Of course he had missed her, did she doubt that? He made the decision then to tell her how he felt, if not that night after the performance, then the next time he could see her. Either way, he knew in his heart it had to be done.  
  


_“Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken_   
_Your best friend always sticking up for you, even when I know you're wrong._   
_Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance five-hour phone conversation_   
_The best soy latte that you ever had. . .and me.”_

She had to know he still loved her.


End file.
